This is Not How to Use Your Magic
by Buttshujinsama
Summary: In which I write smut just because I can. Contains dubcon, tease!Loki, and one innocent victim.


"Pepper, relax. I'll be fine. I'm walking out the door as we speak - no, I will be there. Seriously. Wha- zeh- what? I can't hear you, I think the signal's- neh- huh- I- yuh- breh- ing- uh- bye-" click.

God, you hate it when people schedule meetings before noon.

You were right in the middle of upgrading the undergrown, overrated generator embedded in your ribcage (it wasn't malfunctioning or anything, you just wanted to be able to turn it into a strobe light for no good reason) when Pepper called you with some not-so-welcome news about a board meeting scheduled at the last minute a month ago. Looks like somebody really needs to learn how to plan ahead.

Right now, you're struggling to pull the aforementioned chest accessory out with your left hand (obviously, you need your right hand to hold the donut you're eating) and holding your shirt up with your teeth.

"Shtupidh piesh a' shi' why won' you jush dishconneckt arreddy-WHOA"

And now you've tripped backwards over what appear to be your own feet. At least you landed on something soft and hey, you don't remember putting anything soft here, but you're not complaining.

"You're lucky I'm not planning to kill you."

_Now _you're complaining. You'd know that smooth voice anywhere, and you're really not in the mood to deal with psychotic trickster gods today. You try to jump forward because if you can move just three yards before he catches you, you can have the suit on in seconds, but he plants one hand on your chest and pulls you firmly against his front.

"And you're lucky I'm- wait, hold on, what the hell are you no don't touch that _I said don't touch that oh fuck._" He's fiddling with the reactor, he's twisting it to the side, and you don't think you've been quite this terrified in a long time.

"Do you always talk this much?"

"Hey, what can I say, I'm an important guy and people deserve to know what I have to- _what are you doing you crazy son of a-"_

"Do yourself a favor and refrain from finishing that little epithet."

You then feel the telltale jolt that means your arc reactor is out of its socket, and subsequently the slightly stronger shock alerting you to its now-unplugged state. This sends your pulse through the roof and yeah, you're panicking now. It occurs to you that maybe you shouldn't try to elbow Loki in the stomach because your life is currently in his weasely hands (and you feel one of his arms clamping down on both of yours on either side of your torso, so there's not much point anyway). You won't be able to talk your way out of this one, that's for sure, and you get the feeling he'd just yank your lovely blue headlight out, steal both the new and old ones, and leave you to die on the floor of your workshop if you tried anything funny.

It's official: you're completely fucked.

Now that you've got that all figured out, you try to understand why he's moving the arm he's using to hold you down - oh, he's pulling down your jeans and palming you through your boxers. Okey-dokey.

This is probably his twisted way of distracting you. Trolling you to death, as it were, using one of your favorite things in the world to keep you from saving your own life. What a cruel bastard. You've had some hopes of dying a heroic death, but that's probably irrelevant now.

Your breathing is now up to twice its normal rate, and it's only going to get faster if this keeps up. Whoa, that's a hand snaking its way into your boxers, yes it is, and _ooooooh daaaaamn_ this guy knows what he's doing. He knows exactly which buttons to push, where to touch and how and when. Has he been monitoring your sex life? Is that how he knows your hotspots?

If you're going to die getting a handjob, you might as well enjoy it, you guess.

"What in the name of everything holy are you doing?"

"I'm assisting you, Stark. Your hands, while articulate enough, are a bit large for this sort of thing, aren't they?" It takes you a moment to realize he's talking about the arc reactor, not Tony Junior, and then he tilts his head so his mouth is at your right temple. "Now sit back and watch."

Your next thought is that you're going to be late for that meeting. With the way he's carefully stroking up and down the vein on the underside of your dick, you're not really sure you care right now. When he slides his palm over the head and swipes a finger over the slit, you shudder violently and make a mental note to erase all the security footage from anywhere in the building within earshot because the noise you just made was almost a whine. You outright moan when he takes up a slow, uneven pace that has you jerking your hips erratically, and you're so out of it that you nearly jump out of your skin when he licks a hot trail up the shell of your ear.

"You love this, Tony. Admit it."

You embarrass yourself with the whimper that spills from your open mouth.

"You've wanted this, it's clear - for someone to take you and drive you entirely out of your mind. You need to be dominated."

"Y-yeah, well, I'm late for a me-_meeeeeting_, and there's really not enough time for any k-kind of domination right n-n-now-" how are you coming up with this reply when you can't even see straight?

He speeds up slightly. You groan loudly because _fuck, _he's starting to squeeze in time with every pull, and the pressure in the pit of your stomach is growing with each passing second. You're so close, _god damn it you're about to lose it just one more second-_

And he forms a ring around the base with his thumb and forefinger, applying just enough pressure to stop you from coming.

"Fuck, no, don't stop, come on-_ oooooh god…"_

He's cheating. Using his hand as a makeshift cock ring while he sends some kind of magical pulsating _heat_ shooting through your groin, he laughs - _laughs - _into your shoulder and starts sucking on your skin as you dissolve into a writhing mess. Every breath you draw is followed immediately by a choking, strangled moan with a shake at the end that hurts your throat, but you can't be bothered to give a single shit about what you sound like anymore. He's grinding against your ass (how long has he been doing that?) and seems to be panting into the base of your neck. You rock your hips a little harder and finally get a response from him: a hitch in his breath, followed by a throaty moan of sheer pleasure. Honestly, you hadn't noticed how hard he was before, but now it's featuring heavily in this whole experience and for half a second you want to go a whole lot farther with… whatever this is, and _shit fuck damn you don't know how much more you can take. _He's sped up to a frantic pace and you don't think you've ever been this hard in your entire life - what are you saying, what the hell are you saying, you better not be saying anything stupid-

"-please, please, holy fucking shit please just let me - _aaaaaah - damn it let me come already please please please didn't you ever learn manners-"_

Fuck. You're nearly sobbing.

His other hand brushes your chest lightly with something blue and glowing, and you have just enough time to think _oh shit_ before he's loosening his grip on the base of your dick, just a little, and thumbs the tip just as he plugs the new arc reactor in.

All of a sudden, the incessant burning in the base of your abdomen goes from house fire to forest fire, and you feel a shockwave that starts somewhere in the core of your body and reverberates up and down your spine as your muscles tighten and you come _hard, finally, god yes finally, _with a yell that is probably not the most dignified thing you've done all week but what the fuck ever. You're left lying there, limp, in a warm haze that doesn't seem like such a bad way to go.

You sure hope Jarvis doesn't give the camera feed to the cops when they come looking for your dead body.

After you're done shaking (well, mostly), you realize that your unexpected guest has vanished into thin air, leaving you forty-five minutes late for that meeting and sweaty and sticky as hell. As you zip your pants back up and pull yourself to your feet, you figure it could be worse. You've burned off some energy, you're feeling pretty good, you're not dead, and hey, you still have your-

"Motherfucking son of a shitty walrus whore, _he took my donut_!"


End file.
